test."

"I dote not, Richard," answered the hermit--"I am not so happy. I know
my condition, and that some portion of reason is yet permitted me, not
for my own use, but that of the Church and the advancement of the Cross.
I am the blind man who holds a torch to others, though it yields no
light to himself. Ask me touching what concerns the weal of Christendom,
and of this Crusade, and I will speak with thee as the wisest counsellor
on whose tongue persuasion ever sat. Speak to me of my own wretched
being, and my words shall be those of the maniac outcast which I am."

"I would not break the bands of unity asunder among the princes of the
Crusade," said Richard, with a mitigated tone and manner; "but what
atonement can they render me for the injustice and insult which I have
sustained?"

"Even of that I am prepared and commissioned to speak by the Council,
which, meeting hastily at the summons of Philip of France, have taken
measures for that effect."

"Strange," replied Richard, "that others should treat of what is due to
the wounded majesty of England!"

"They are willing to anticipate your demands, if it be possible,"
answered the hermit. "In a body, they consent that the Banner of
England be replaced on Saint George's Mount; and they lay under ban
and condemnation the audacious criminal, or criminals, by whom it was
outraged, and will announce a princely reward to any who shall denounce
the delinquent's guilt, and give his flesh to the wolves and ravens."

"And Austria," said Richard, "upon whom rest such strong presumptions
that he was the author of the deed?"

"To prevent discord in the host," replied the hermit, "Austria will
clear himself of the suspicion by submitting to whatsoever ordeal the
Patriarch of Jerusalem shall impose."

"Will he clear himself by the trial by combat?" said King Richard.

"His oath prohibits it," said the hermit; "and, moreover, the Council of
the Princes--"

"Will neither authorize battle against the Saracens," interrupted
Richard, "nor against any one else. But it is enough, father--thou hast
shown me the folly of proceeding as I designed in this matter. You shall
sooner light your torch in a puddle of rain than bring a spark out of a
cold-blooded coward. There is no honour to be gained on Austria, and so
let him pass. I will have him perjure himself, however; I will insist
on the ordeal. How I shall laugh to hear his clumsy fingers hiss, as he
grasps the red-hot globe of